Pain
by The Scarlet Rose
Summary: A Rebirth Fanfiction: Millenear had never really given much thought to pain. Physical pain, sure. Years of training and demon fighting had taught her about bruises, cuts and broken bones. But that's not this kind of pain. It was not his kind of pain.


Songs that inspired this fic:

**Flyleaf: **Fully Alive

**Within Temptation:** Angels, Solemn Hour

**Gackt: **Vanilla

**Circa Survive: **On Letting Go

**Cowboy Bebop soundtrack: **Real Folk Blues

**Local H: **Hands on the bible

**Paramore: Decode**

Warning: MaleXFemale sex. You've been warned.

XX

Millenear had never really given much thought to pain.

Physical pain, sure. Years of training and demon fighting had taught her about bruises, cuts and broken bones.

About hurt and pain and torture.

But that's not this kind of pain.

She looked at the man standing mere feet from her.

It was not _**his**_ kind of pain.

Sure, more than anyone, Deshwitat L. Rudbich knew of pain. After nearly 300 years of fighting, he understood pain, breathed pain.

But he also knew of suffering, of emotional devastation, the complete abandonment of all things dear and beloved of him.

He knew the kind of pain that wrenched your insides and turned your soul inside out so that you were allowed no rest of over 100 years. The kind of pain that made you crave revenge above all else. That gave you the motivation to track the man you once viewed as your closest friend to world's end and kill him.

That was his kind of pain.

And Millenear could never understand that.

But, she could understand the pain of a forlorn lover. The pain she felt now, standing so close to the first man she ever loved, and the only one she probably ever would, and having him stare back at her with eyes like eyes.

"Desh... I love you!"

She had said it. She had finally said it. Though saying that she'd simply _said_ it would be giving her too much credit, as she'd more shouted it than calmly stated it, muttering the phrase together in such a fashion that even Deshwitat, with his keen hearing took several moments to decipher what she'd said.

"You don't know what you're talking about, girl." He muttered, staring at her coldly after the .2 second initial shock of her confession had worn off.

Of course, it was easy to dismiss her confession as simply that and nothing more, as just moments earlier they had been standing in the very same hotel room, screaming at each other.

Desh complaining that she and 'the other brat' meaning Remi, were only slowing them down. That she had no involvement in this, and her childish need to be around him was only going to get herself killed.

At some point during this berating, she'd interrupted him, confessed her loved, and wound up where she is now, both of them facing each other in silence.

"You have no idea what you're saying." He continued, starting to turn away from her

"I do--."She began, her voice faltering "I do--."

"Some silly little infatuation is far from love," he continued.

Millenear paused at that.

_'Infatuation? And not just any infatuation, but 'silly'? Is that what this was?'_

The feeling that kept her up at night? That filled her belly with butterflies and caused her limbs to quiver. The fact that his face never left her mind, and that her thoughts were always consumed with him?

Infatuation? Did that explain this feeling right now? The craving to reach out and touch him, to feel his touch, smell his skin, being so close to him that she could imagine the taste of his flesh, of his lips, and knowing that she can't have it, and feeling it rip her apart inside. Did it?

No.

Her mouth gaped open, flapping open and closed as she tried to push out the dozens upon dozens of sentences that had formed in her brain and started to skim her lips.

She was pretty sure she was hyperventilating from taking so many breaths in her attempt to speak.

Oh God, she was going to faint. She knew it. She was going to look like an even bigger idiot and faint after flapping her lips like a goldfish for the past five minutes.

"You don't even know anything about me," he finished, turning away from her, moving to leave the room "How could you possibly love me?"

At this, she stopped, and for a second in time, everything froze. Deshwitat's back moving away from her, his words echoing in the room.

_'You don't even know anything about me...'_

Of course, he was right. In the grand aspect of things, she knew very little about Desh. She knew that he was a vampire with a horribly tragic past currently on a quest of revenge and to save the world, the latter he seemed far less interested in. She knew that he was a snazzy dresser, who liked old time-y, Victorian-esque things, and who couldn't seem to comprehend any sort of modern technology.

But, in the grand scheme of things, she didn't know him fully. She didn't know what his favorite color was, what kind of books he liked to read, what his hobbies were or anything of that sort.

But, instead, she knew one thing and the one thing that mattered to her. How she felt.

"I know... how it hurts..." She murmured "When..."

Deshwitat chuckled loudly, interrupting her.

"You don't know what pain is."

"I know the pain you cause, Desh." Millenear continued, advancing on him.

"That's not my kind of pain."

"Then show me," She pushed him into the wall, wrapping her arms around his steel frame, standing on tiptoe to place her lips just above his "Show me your truth," She spoke, crushing their lips together.

He grew still under her, not responding to her touches. She didn't care though. His body felt like she had imagined it would, cold and hard like metal. Her body's initial response was to shiver away, but once her mind comprehended who it was she was kissing, whose perfect, deep musky scent filled her nose, she moaned, pressing her body further against his.

For the first time in many, many years, Deshwitat was frozen.

He had never been much of a thinker, true. Instead, he had always been a fighter. He followed his blood, and that carried him through most situations.

But not here. Not now. The direction his blood was flowing was most certainly **not** the way it should to get out of this. Yet, while he stood there, unmoving, he hadn't actually pushed Millenear away either. He couldn't deny the girl had stirred a reaction in him, as evident by the sudden tightness of his pants, yet he was almost certain that he shouldn't proceed.

As his emotions conflicted with each other, he simply stood there, feeling Millenear's lips and hands grow ever more desperate, seeking a reaction-any reaction-from him.

He had originally cornered her after a particularly disappointing training session, frustrated with her weakness, to try to convince her to go home and take Remi with her.

And then, she had started speaking nonsense. Granted, Deshwitat had expected her to argue. To attempt to reason with him with useless logic. He and expected fighting. Had been prepared screaming.

He had not been prepared...

for _this._

She had spoken to him of pain. He had laughed. As if a child like her could really understand the meaning of the word.

The pain she knew was broken bones and annoyance. Frustration and disappointment caused by trivial, passing, mortal things. The pain he knew was much different from that. Deeper, darker, more... eternal.

Hers would pass fleetingly, like her life. His would on on ever lasting.

As if she could ever understand that kind of pain. **His** kind of pain.

_'Then show me,'_ Her voice played in his memory _'Show me your pain, Desh.'_

She stood before him, her warm body pressed against his, wet tears running down her cheeks, her lips desperately clinging to his.

He would show her. He would make her understand his pain. He would pound it into her, flesh until she was overrun with it and nothing but it. Until she could, just for one second, understand what it meant to be him. To exist as Deshwitat L. Rudbich, the lonely, soulless vampire.

Almost without realizing it, his body moved, lifting her up and grabbing her warm body -so warm- and slamming her into the wall behind him with such forced that it knocked a picture off of the wall.

It was okay. It could be mended. Its pieces could be put back together.

His couldn't.

Desh wanted to make her like him. Broken beyond repair.

Millenear was almost certain, she'd be horribly bruised from the force of Deshwitat's movement, but she didn't care. She nearly sobbed tears of joy as his lips moved forcefully against hers, his tongue sliding against hers, dominating the kiss, pressing her body against his, taking in a sharp intake of breath as his hands roamed over her skin, seemingly lost of where to touch first.

Deshwitat's head was swimming. Overwhelmed by both his carnal desire for her body and his primary concern of not killing her, which was becoming less and less of a guarantee as he surrounded him. As her lips slid firmer against his, her legs wrapped around his waist now pulled him tighter, desiring more delicious friction, his senses distorted and all he could think of was 'more'. More warmth. More flesh. More of her.

Assuring her grip on him was firm, he lifted her, moving her swiftly to the bed, resuming his actions.

He could feel her trembling underneath him. Not in fear, but with the nervousness, the anticipation that comes with ones first time.

Her had felt it from a woman once before, once with--.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned his attention to the body that was underneath him. The pure body, untainted, unmarred.

He would fix that.

Desh could feel himself becoming addicted to this flesh. This heat. The way her skin would cool when his hands and lips pressed over it, only to heat again with twice as much force, nearly burning his frozen flesh like fire.

She moved with him, mimicking his phantom motions, her hips swaying with his, pressing back against him through his clothing.

Her body was suddenly like fluid. Like clay in a potters hands, becoming formed and held in the way that he desired, spilling moans from her lips to be swallowed up by his mouth.

Soon. He had deftly stripped her of all her clothing, relishing briefly at her surprise at the smoothness of his movements.

She blushed, suddenly feeling shy around him. Her nude body splayed out like a buffet to his hungry eyes.

Hesitating at first, and reaching slowly for Desh's clothes, moving to slide down the suspenders around his shoulders, she stopped, suddenly knowing what she wanted to touch and feel first.

His hair.

She had to admit that it was a bit of a girlish fantasy on her part, as one of the first thing she'd thought about when she'd first met him was how gorgeous his hair was, how much it looked like finally spun Chinese silk, and spilled beautifully over his shoulders like a cape.

She had fantasized about running her fingers through it, letting it spill like ink over her hands, and now,she moved to enact her fantasy, lips parted slightly in concentration, and heated breath as she reached up, pulling the bands that bound his hair loose and watching as it spilled over his shoulders slowly, eliciting a smile from her.

Initially confused at her actions, Deshwitat froze, staring blankly at her as her hands moved towards his hair, where she carefully undid the thick bindings.

He smiled internally, understanding she was the same. Lilith. She too had a strange fascination with the length and feel of his hair. Desh, on the other hand, had always found it bothersome, but was too attached to cut it.

And like Lilith too, her body was warm and welcoming underneath his. Accepting and responsive to his touches, always seeking more and giving more. More warmth, more love, move affection, more...

He looked down at the blond splayed before him, panting and moaning at his actions, seeking more.

Giving him..

love.

But, this was not Lilith. They were not the same. This was not the woman whose name had invoked years worth of pain and torment, and whose memory had the ability to rip him to shreds.

They were not the same. Lilith was gone. And this... and she...

was different.

Pure.

Unbroken.

Alive.

Slowly, Deshwitat began to undress, watching as Millenear's eyes took in every aspect of a body that took 300 years to sculpt. Her eyes scanned his face, his broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest, and the paleness of his nipples, the tightness of his abs, before her hands moved up to help him with his pants.

"Desh." She spoke, unsure of why his name spilled over her lips.

He narrowed his eyes in silent answer, expecting a question and instead finding only silence as she stared at him, her fingers slipping through the belt loops of his pants.

Exhaling slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, wiggling his hips to help easy his pants down.

Millenear was pleased to find that Deshwitat hadn't taken to the modern habit of wearing underwear, and was met with the hard, smooth flesh of his cock.

She froze for a moment, her eyes glued to the hard skin, seemingly staring her straight in the eye. She swallowed nervously, realizing just what they were about to do.

Deshwitat suddenly felt embarrassed ,watching her stare at his length like it hand teeth or was going to shoot lasers at her. Distantly ,she recalled his and Lilith's first time. She had been more... trusting. More... relaxed. She had simply locked eyes with him, and let him do whatever he'd wanted with her body. Trusting him to bring her pleasure and comfort gained from his few experiences with lonely bar maidens during his adolescence.

For a moment, he thought she was going to cower away, telling him to stop, only to be pleasantly surprised as she reached out and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking it gently.

Millenear smirked softly, hearing Desh let out a deep, throaty moan as she stroked him slowly. Her hand shook softly, unexperienced with the action, but replaced when she realized that he was enjoying her ministrations. His lips were parted, and drawing in short breaths before emitting soft moans.

Desh's hips rocked forward into her hand, enjoying the first sensation of someone else's hand on him in over 300 years. He felt the pleasure rising from him, his climax building, but not wanting it to be over so soon,he moved away from her, and leaned down, capturing her lips, situating himself on top of her, laying her back down on the soft mattress.

Warmth pooled between her legs as Desh rubbed himself against her, she matching his movements. Her clit engorged, and she felt him grind against the tiny bundle of nerves. Caught off guard, Millenear let out a loud moan, Deshwitat smile against where he was busying herself on her neck, before repeating the action.

This time, Millenear pressed her lips into Desh's broad shoulder, muffling her moan before casting a fleeting glance at the door, wondering if it was locked, only to have her mind go blank as she felt Desh nudge gently at her entrance.

Desh stilled, waiting for her reaction. He wanted to make sure she knew damn well what she (or rather, he) was getting into. For a brief second, he thought her bravado had worn off, and that she had changed her mind, only to let out a slight gasp as her hand reached down and grabbed his member, pulling it gently towards her.

Taking this as her consent, Deshwitat situated himself between her legs, before pressing his lisp to hers as he entered her slowly, careful not to hurt her.

The sensation of being stretched was unpleasant, but the man doing it to her wasn't. She reeled from the sensations, not sure whether to push him out or to pull him in. She moaned, her hips moving unsteadily, attempting to create some sort of pleasure. Deshwitat's hands moved up to her hips to steady them, and help them roll with his motion.

Deshwitat's breath came in short gasps mixed with deep moans. She was so tight around him, so wet, so warm. He thrust deeply within her, his hips meeting hers in a sensual rhythm.

So much warmth and flesh and blood. Too much. His mind was reeling as he moved within her, finding his comfort, finding his haven for the first time in 300 years.

Initially unprepared for the increase and force of his actions, Millenear began to move away. But realizing what he was doing, what he needed, she dug her feet into the mattress and her nails into his back and took him in willingly.

"It's okay..." she whispered in between moans "Give it to me. Give it all to me. I can take it."

_'Give me your pain, Desh.'_

He fell against her, burying his face into her shoulder, unable to look at her anymore as he pounded into her, pouring all of his agony and frustration into her.

And she took it. She took his pain, his fear and remorse and regret. She took his sorry, diluted with pleasure from the things he was doing to her body, the way his hands cupped her face, breasts, hips, back. The way his lips would latch onto hers as they flowed from a variety of positions, him behind her her on top and in the end winding up back at the beginning, his face looking into hers, his body preparing to ebb off into climax after many of Millenear's.

"Desh..."She murmured, reaching out and touching his face as his thrusts became more erratic

"Mille-near..." He spoke back, unable to take it anymore, crying out as wave after wave of intense orgasm spilled out of him, leaving him collapsed against her sweaty, panting body.

For a few moments, only their pants and sighs filled the room, slowly quieting as Millenear regained her composure, and Desh's shifted into something else. Millenear's heart stilled as wet tear drops fell onto her shoulder from the spot where Deshwitat had hidden his face.

His body shook with his attempt to restrain them, as soft sob after sob rolled over him.

She only sighed, and clutched him tighter.

"It's... alright, Desh..." She began softly "It's okay..."

She had spoken to him of pain, and he had laughed. But now, she understood, now she comprehended. She had it pounded into her flesh, embedded scouring hot into her skin.

She had asked him to show her his truth. **His** kind of pain and he had given it to her and her body willingly took it in... willingly too _him_ in, and his pain, his darkness along with it.

"It's okay..." she continued "It's alright... because I love you."

And she did. Clutching his large form, stroking that silk mass of hair, feeling him soften within her, her body embarrassing him in the most intimate of ways.

This was their start.

This was only the beginning.

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!

A.N. So, after discovering that there were only 2 Rebirth fanfics online, I got fed up, and for some reason being in the mood for angsty smut, I sat in class and hammered this out (I'm sure my professor thought I was taking notes ^_^;;). Hopefully, this will inspire people to write more about Rebirth and get the word out there. Thanks for reading!


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